


to the edge i'll race you

by leighbot



Series: thinkin bout forever [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Frat Boy Liam, M/M, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>If, during his freshman orientation, Zayn would have been told that he’d be spending the majority of his free time at Phi Kappa Sigma during the upcoming year he would have laughed and bet all of his money against it coming true.</i><br/> </p><p>Or, Liam has a surprise for Zayn. It might just scare him away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to the edge i'll race you

**Author's Note:**

> zomg, this was a long time in the making! Thank you to every single person who read the first story and commented, reblogged or left me a message in my ask on tumblr. I am forever grateful for the motivation that gave me. This fic could not exist without imitation_red's original prompt that I filled for the Bottom Zayn Exchange last October. Note: this fic includes switching, it's even tagged. There's a relatively short bottom Liam scene near the end.
> 
> Title from Frank Ocean, because I may as well keep this a theme. Though Jenny did say 'they like to schmang and also theres feelings' was perfectly acceptable.

 

 

The open window had been a good idea the night before- when they had been breathless and panting from two exhilarating rounds- but the morning spring air is sharply cold and a bit damp, and Zayn flings the covers over his head as he packs himself as close to Liam as he can get in an effort to retain some body heat.

“Zee?” Liam asks, hardly awake and giving off warmth like a furnace. “S’wrong?”

“Damn freezing,” Zayn responds, trying unsuccessfully to curl into the fetal position and also stay pressed to Liam’s side.

“I’ll get it,” Liam offers, kicking off the covers before Zayn can protest.

“No,” he whines in vain, tucking the comforter around himself.

It’s too late. The cold air has settled into the spot Liam’s left, cooling the sheets quickly and making Zayn shiver. He doesn’t look up, but he can hear when Liam slides the window shut. The click of the lock being closed to keep it air tight is loud in the otherwise quiet house.

“Guess we shouldn’t have expected March to be so warm, eh?” Liam asks.

Zayn grumbles something, not looking to entertain the thought of being awake so early. He hears Liam stumbling around the room, most likely getting ready to go for a morning run, and he’s just about regained feeling in his frozen toes when the mattress dips near his waist and Liam’s hands are tugging the blankets from around Zayn’s face.

“Cold,” is all Zayn says when he feels the cool air on his nose. He squeezes his eyes shut before blinking them open. Liam’s brown eyes look darker in the half-light of dawn. His skin is warm when he brushes a finger across Zayn’s jawline. “You gonna ask me to come with?”

Liam smiles. “Think I’ve learned how much you hate exercise and mornings, double-so when they’re combined.”

“I still like being asked,” Zayn admits, pouting.

“You wanna go for a run, babe?” Zayn shakes his head, trying to resist the urge to grin as he pulls a face instead. Liam doesn’t lose his own smile, leaning in to press his lips briefly to Zayn’s once and then again before he pulls away. “Love you, be back soon,” he promises.

“Love you, too.”

He’s back asleep before he hears the front door of the frat house close.

 

 

If, during his freshman orientation, Zayn would have been told that he’d be spending the majority of his free time at Phi Kappa Sigma during the upcoming year he would have laughed and bet all of his money against it coming true.

Looking back, Zayn’s thankful he hadn’t been offered that opportunity. He’s quite fond of the little money he has saved up, plans on using it to take Liam away for a weekend after his graduation ceremony at the beginning of May.

He’s sipping one of Niall’s concoctions and debating whether Liam would better enjoy a weekend on Lake Michigan or downtown Detroit for a ball game and concert while the party goes on around him. He isn’t paying attention to the dancing guests not five feet from him, so he’s caught off-guard when something solid and warm smacks into his side. Two overly-long arms wrap around his waist. Zayn automatically smiles into Harry’s curls where they half-attempt to smother him as usual, freeing one of his own arms from Harry’s grip and wrapping it around Harry’s waist.

“Y’alright, babe?”

“ _Zaynie_ ,” Harry whines, burying his face in Zayn’s neck and hunching his shoulders as if he’s trying to curl inside Zayn’s chest. “How come no one loves me?”

That makes Zayn giggle and pinch at the baby fat still somehow gripping Harry’s hips, though the rest of him is trim enough to rival Liam. “Everyone loves you, _what_ are you talking about?”

“Not like how Liam loves you.”

A flush heats Zayn’s cheeks and he can feel a dorky smile pulling at his mouth. Like a reflex, he lifts his gaze to search the room, scanning until he finds Liam over in a corner. He’s goofing off with Louis. That’s not really anything new, but the sight of Liam’s eyes crinkled nearly shut as he laughs with his best friend will never stop being endearing in Zayn’s opinion.

“Ugh,” Harry groans in his ear, “You’ve got that ridiculous ‘Liam Smile’ on your face.”

Zayn shrugs him off. “Go bother Niall.”

“He’s in love, too. It’s awful.”

“Yeah, but he’s emotionally stunted. It won’t be as bad.”

Accepting that logic, Harry heads off easily. Zayn doesn’t even watch him go, too busy staring at his boyfriend until Liam looks over. His grin shifts then, softer and fonder as he wiggles out from under Louis’ arm and heads across the room to Zayn.

“Hey,” he says, a swagger in his hips as he pushes out his bottom lip a bit.

Zayn licks at his bottom lip absentmindedly, giving Liam a slow once-over. “Hey, yourself.”

“Come here often?”

Smirking, Zayn shakes his head. “No, my boyfriend wouldn’t like me coming here all the time.”

“Boyfriend?” Liam asks, glancing over his shoulder. He looks back quickly, clearly trying to hide a grin. “Is he the jealous type?”

“Oh, for sure. Very much so. And he’s big, too.”

Liam wags his eyebrows, looking like a dork. His expression turns incredibly pleased when Zayn laughs, dropping the act and drawing closer. He settles both hands on Zayn’s waist, using them to tug Zayn into his chest. Zayn’s always loved how large Liam’s hands feel against his skin, how carefully they hold him even though he could probably squash him if he ever forgot his strength.

Liam’s never forgotten, not even for a moment.

The air around them is heavy and warm from the press of bodies in the room, the smell of sweat and beer strong. But even over it, Zayn can smell Liam’s deodorant and the sharp scent of his favorite candy on his breath as Zayn tilts his chin up for a kiss.

Like always, the way their mouths fit together is overwhelming. Zayn hasn’t kissed many people, but he thinks that there might never be anyone who kisses him better than Liam does. Just like the way he holds his waist, Liam never pushes too hard or fast with his mouth; he always moves at the exact speed Zayn needs him to, always takes him apart with a casual flick of his tongue or a teasing nip of his teeth to the swell of Zayn’s bottom lip. Even with a crowd around them, Liam pulls all of Zayn’s attention.

The kiss ends after too short a time, Zayn breaking it to suck in a breath in the suddenly too-warm air.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he suggests, voice pitched above the sound of the music’s bass line. He hates yelling, hates the way it seems to stretch his voice. He has to though, as it’s so loud that he can hardly hear himself think. Thankfully, Liam doesn’t need him to repeat himself, using the hands still plastered to Zayn’s hips to lead him out of the basement and up the stairs to the main floor. He sticks close to Zayn’s back, pressing kisses to the tops of his shoulders through his t-shirt as they head through the kitchen to the back yard.

The usual March chill is in the air but that hasn’t stopped some people from jumping into the pool, and Zayn glances over just long enough to make sure none of his friends have been stupid enough to do so. Liam hooks his chin over Zayn’s shoulder, his stubble rough against Zayn’s own.

He’s probably searching the pool, as well, Zayn realizes. “They’re not in there,” he reassures him, tilting his head back to meet Liam’s eye.

The furrow between his brows doesn’t fade, and Zayn realizes Liam’s concerned about all of the people in the pool, that all of the boys are Liam’s _brothers_ , that he feels responsible for all of them as the frat’s president. It’s horribly endearing and Zayn scrunches his nose and smiles when Liam looks down at him after a moment.

“Hey,” he starts, as if he doesn’t already have Liam’s full attention.

Liam smiles. He’s most likely unaware of the thoughts running through Zayn’s head, the jumbled mess that Zayn can hardly follow sometimes. It always comes back to Liam, though.

“I love you,” Zayn says, earnest and soft the way only his family and Liam inspire him to be.

“Baby,” Liam says, voice hardly louder than an exhale as he leans in to bring their lips together. The angle is awkward with him still standing behind Zayn, but it’s over quickly enough as Zayn steps away. He fits his hands to Liam’s where they’re still on his waist as if that’s where they belong, linking their fingers and tugging Liam after him.

Even in the dark, Zayn knows exactly where he’s going. His muscle memory could lead him to the little shed on the edge of the frat’s property even if he was drunk, high and blind all at once. He finds the hide-a-key quickly, batting away Liam’s wandering hands once he lets them go. Liam whines playfully, pawing at Zayn’s ass as he jiggles the key to the right, kicking at the base of the door until the lock _pops_ and they step inside.

Zayn immediately locks the deadbolt behind them, twisting his fingers in the excess of Liam’s baggy jeans at his hips and using his grip to tug Liam against him. They’re kissing before Liam’s even finished moving forward.

It’s thrilling, having Liam’s body pressed against his, and Zayn would beg for it just like this- fast and desperate pressed against the wall- any other time but he’s in the mood for something different tonight. He wants to take his time.

He’s been trying to not think about Liam’s upcoming graduation, but he can’t stop the thoughts sometimes. His time with Liam is limited- there’s an expiration date to the fun, easy thing they’ve had together. Summer will come and they’ll spend time together while they still can, but Liam’s going to either move on to graduate school or get a job at the factory with his father, and Zayn’s going to be entering his sophomore year.

It’s only a matter of time, Zayn knows, before he won’t be able to have Liam whenever he wants him. He wants to take tonight to memorize everything about his boyfriend that he can before it’s too late.

“Babe, wait,” he says, his voice loud in the silence.

Liam pulls back swiftly but gently, staying close and waiting for Zayn to make the next move. His shoulders are back and he’s holding himself stiff, as if he’s awaiting his orders. Zayn runs his hands along Liam’s neck, fingers tracing veins as he smooths them over his shoulders.

“Let’s lay down?” Zayn asks. He hates that it comes out as a question, so he clears his throat and presses a soft kiss to Liam’s full bottom lip. “Jus’ want to kiss you,” he admits, his tongue pushing at his own lip when he pulls back, a nervous tic that Liam’s gaze catches.

“Zee?”

“I’m fine,” Zayn assures him, pressing his hands to Liam’s chest and guiding him across the cement floor until they’re both climbing onto the pile of spare mattresses that they’ve turned into their unofficial make out spot during parties, as Liam’s room is on the ground floor and offers them no privacy whatsoever.

Liam tugs his shirt off and balls it up, laying his head down on it and drawing Zayn with him. Zayn fidgets until he’s mostly on his stomach, one elbow propping him up over Liam’s body, his other arm draped over Liam’s bare chest while his fingers trace patterns around his birthmark. It’s a quiet moment when Zayn initiates the kiss again, the sounds of the morons in the pool muffled by the distance and walls between. Only the rustling of their clothes makes enough noise to be heard over their kisses.

Though Zayn could keep this up for minutes, hours, days at a time, he’s a bit relieved when Liam lets out a frustrated groan and manhandles Zayn so he’s straddling Liam’s hips properly. The kisses turn slicker and less refined, Zayn often trailing his mouth down to nip and suck along the stubble-covered line of Liam’s jaw before again finding his bruised lips. He rocks his hips down, the denim of their jeans too confining to feel how affected either of them is. Zayn knows, though. He knows that he could reach a hand between them, slide it under the waistband of Liam’s pants and find his boyfriend half-hard and already damp at the head, responsive always to anything Zayn gives him.

It makes Zayn want to give Liam it all, all the time, in all the ways.

There’s a loud thud that startles them apart. Zayn hadn’t realized how desperate he’d been for air, trying to catch his breath as his gaze locks on the sheen of Liam’s lips. He wants to lean in again, but the exaggerated groans coming from outside the shed can only mean one thing, and he can already see the way Liam’s mouth is turning up at the corners.

“Louis and Niall must miss us,” Liam says happily, sitting up. The shift makes Zayn land on Liam’s knees, caught off-guard, but Liam’s hands steady him until they can scoot off the mattresses, discreetly putting themselves back together. Liam tugs his shirt on last and Zayn makes an unhappy sound. “C’mon you nympho,” he teases, bounding out the door. “Boys!” he shouts in greeting.

Niall and Louis are indeed outside, banging on the wall and making moaning sounds against the siding.

“How old are you two again?” Zayn asks as he follows Liam out, fingers already itching for a cigarette. Thankfully, Liam already has one dangling from his lips, and Zayn swipes it easily, taking the first drag before passing it back.

“Sharing a cigarette after sex, how domestic,” Louis jokes.

“Domestic like the way you and Niall are moving in together after graduation?” Zayn counters, enjoying the pinched look on Louis’ face and the way Niall starts looking anywhere but at them as they start walking back towards the house. “Pretty fucking domestic for two guys who don’t even say ‘I love you’.”

“Hey,” Niall starts. “We say it.”

Zayn giggles, watching as Louis blows the smoke from his own cigarette away from Niall on instinct. “Yeah, just because we don’t say it every twenty minutes like you two,” he agrees, arm going around Niall’s shoulders.

“I like telling Zayn that I love him,” Liam pouts.

“And he likes hearing it,” Louis and Niall say nearly in unison.

“Gonna pin him before we go?” Niall asks a minute later. Liam blushes but doesn’t say anything. Zayn is instantly curious, but then they are walking in through the doorwall and the state of the dining area shocks him. The party has quieted down a bit, having raged all day after the school’s basketball team had moved forward to the semifinals. There’s only a handful of non-frat members left, most people sleeping it off in random rooms or headed back to their dorms to crash.

Used to being around for the cleanup after parties, Zayn starts gathering cups on instinct, pouring leftovers into one and stacking the others underneath with Louis, while Niall and Liam head into the kitchen to assess the damage there.

“What’s that mean? Pin me?” Zayn asks Louis as soon as Liam’s around the corner. He is self-conscious as always when he doesn’t understand a term from Liam’s world, but he can count on Louis to be his guide.

For all his snark and bite, Louis doesn’t give him a hard time. “S’what the guys do to their partners, giving them their pins. It’s a bit of a silly tradition.”

“Does Liam want to pin me?”

It’s a testament to their friendship that Louis reads Zayn’s awkwardness correctly, passing over the chance to make a dirty joke in favor of straightening up and looking at him fondly. “I’ve never seen any person who wants to pin someone the way Liam wants to pin you. He probably would’ve done it before now, but it’s traditionally done in the spring.”

“And Liam likes being traditional,” Zayn finishes, smiling softly. “What do I have to do?”

“Basically stand there and look pretty. It’s nothing too big.”

Zayn feels like he isn’t understanding it completely, thinks it might be more important than Louis is letting on, but then Liam’s coming out of the kitchen with trash bags in hand, handing one off to Louis before helping clean up the area in which Zayn is standing. He nudges Zayn’s shoulder with his own as they throw out the garbage, wagging his eyebrows and doing his best impression of a wink.

“Come here often?” he asks, repeating his earlier line. It shouldn’t work but Zayn’s easy for Liam, and he laughs and ducks in for a quick kiss.

“You’re terrible,” Zayn admonishes him, skirting away when Liam makes to pull him into his side. He knows better than to let Liam distract them from finishing the cleanup.

 

 

They don’t end up getting to bed for so long it’s already the next morning, the sunrise changing the color of the skies outside Liam’s window. Zayn’s too tired to pick up where they left off in the shed. Instead, he slips under the covers and kicks off his jeans, ignoring when they bundle up at the foot of the bed. He blinks over the edge of the comforter when Liam tuts and tugs the jeans out, straightening them and putting them in the hamper. He watches as Liam undresses down to his boxers and climbs into the bed and then he scoots into Liam’s arms once he’s settled. His fingers find the thick patch of chest hair right above Liam’s sternum, stroking it distractedly until he falls asleep.

 

 

The afternoon air drifting through the window is much warmer and more humid than the previous morning had been. Zayn stirs awake, frowning already at the sweat making his hair stick to the back of his neck. He stretches his fingers where they’re clutched in Liam’s pillowcase, his pout deepening when he realizes he’s alone in the bed. Blinking blearily, he looks around and clocks that he’s alone in the room as well, the sheets slipping off his torso as he sits up. The t-shirt he fell asleep in is twisted around his middle and he fights it straight as he climbs off Liam’s extra-high bed, his feet thudding against the hardwood floors as he lands.

“Leem?” he calls out, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He grabs a pair of Liam’s sweatpants from his closet, tugging them up and over his boxer-briefs. His bare feet make sticking sounds as he wanders out of Liam’s room, looking around for him and calling his name again when both the living room and kitchen turn up empty.

“Downstairs!” comes a reply this time, but it isn’t Liam’s voice.

Confused and a bit curious, Zayn snatches a packet of pop-tarts from a box at random and rips open the package. He finishes most of the first one by the time his bare feet hit the cool tile in the basement, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“What’s going on?” he asks no one in particular, watching the brothers milling about. Some are playing pool and others are set up around the television in the corner, but most are lounging around half-dressed and looking miserable.

“It’s too fucking hot to be upstairs,” Niall answers from the side of the room, frowning at the cards in his hand. Zayn’s never understood poker but he knows enough to tell that Niall’s got a shit hand, and he makes a mental note to inform him of his lack of a poker face one day as he turns and continues to scan the room for Liam.

The second pop-tart goes the way of the first by the time he concludes Liam isn’t there, and he slouches over to the couch and plops down half on-top of Harry as he pretends to be interested in whatever game they’re watching on the television.

“Where’d Li go?” he asks, hearing the pout in his voice but not really caring.

Harry shrugs, seemingly unconcerned as he yells and cheers a half-beat behind the others. “Louis and him had an errand, I guess.”

Zayn frowns. Liam isn’t really the ‘running errands’ type, and Louis for sure isn’t. If it was groceries or something similar, Liam would have almost definitely asked Zayn if he needed anything from the store. Puzzled, he watches as Harry continues to follow the lead of the others. Amused, he asks, “If you don’t like it, why are you watching?”

“Nothing else to do,” Harry responds gamely, unfazed when the brothers laugh and tease him. It’s gentle and fond, and Zayn is constantly surprised that he feels more at ease with a crowd of frat bros than he does almost anywhere else in the world.

Deciding that his boyfriend’s allowed to be mysterious sometimes, Zayn settles back into the couch cushions, falling all the way off Harry’s lap and curling next to him instead. Never one to care much about sports, Zayn wonders – not for the first time – how he ended up at a college with multiple nationally ranked teams and a fervor for school spirit matched only by their toughest rivals.

At least there’s always a reason to throw a party, he decides. Even a random Michigan spring weather heat wave has forced a party of sorts, the brothers having a good time in the relative cool of the mostly finished basement.

 

 

By the time Liam and Louis come back, the sky is already growing dark. The brothers are packed in the living room upstairs, the setting sun taking some of the heat with it. Zayn and Harry are goofing around in the middle of the room, the couches and chairs pushed against the walls to form a pseudo dance floor. There’s a girl who keeps checking Harry out, a friend of one of the brother’s girlfriends, and Zayn is hiding a grin at her obvious interest when he spots Liam coming in through the door.

He abandons Harry without a second thought, calling out “Babe!” as he crosses the room. He hears a brief protest from Harry but pays him no mind, knowing his obliviousness won’t last much longer. Either the pretty girl will strike or Harry will open his eyes, but all Zayn currently cares about is how quickly he can get to Liam and barrel into his chest.

“Aww, the little stalker duckling’s back,” Louis teases, but Liam is already tipping Zayn’s chin up for a greeting kiss and Zayn only spares the effort to flip Louis the bird before he’s returning it.

Liam pulls back too soon. “You’ve been gone all day and we had _plans_ ,” Zayn admonishes, stumbling a bit when Liam leads him aside so he can kick off his shoes and pile them on the mat near the doorway.

“We did?” Liam asks, looking back at Zayn.

Zayn hates the look that crosses Liam’s face, as if he thinks he’s messed something up, so he admits quickly, “Not, like, set in stone. Just, we’d said we’d do dinner or something.”

“I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s no big deal, Li.”

“I completely forgot. Louis asked me for my help with something and I didn’t remember telling you I’d take you out. I’m sorry.”

“Liam,” Zayn groans, feeling bad for making Liam feel guilty. He’s endeared by the apologies but he brings their mouths together again in a slick kiss to quell anything further from being said. He expects it to distract brilliantly, it always has before, but Liam pulls away far too quickly and smiles down at Zayn instead.

Their one inch height difference is never more noticeable than when Zayn is trying to control a situation and Liam just _won’t let him_.

“Let’s go to your room,” Zayn suggests, blinking slowly and peeking up through his lashes the way he knows always gets Liam to flush. It works, as usual, but Liam still shakes his head. “ _Why_?” Zayn whines, knowing he sounds like a child but not caring. He missed an entire lazy Sunday with his boyfriend, and they only have six lazy Sundays left before Liam’s graduation.

… Not that Zayn is counting, or anything.

“Trust me, you’re going to want to stay for this,” Liam says with a grin. His smile pushes his cheeks out wide, his eyes looking so small with the force of his happiness, and Zayn rolls his eyes and smiles as well, tipping up for another, quicker, kiss.

“I can’t wait to see what you two fools were up to.”

Almost before he’s done speaking, there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat. Zayn turns his head, looking over his shoulder for the source of the sound until he hears Louis’ sharp ‘Oi!’ and silence falls amongst the brothers and guests as someone cuts off the stereo system.

It takes Zayn a long moment to understand what he’s seeing, Louis and Niall standing on the coffee table. There are beer bottles and cans littered at their feet and Niall looks confused but excited, as if he’s expecting Louis to tell a story or pull some tricks. His cheeks are pink from the beer he’s been steadily drinking all day and his eyes are bright, just waiting.

Instead of a joke or demand for something ridiculous, Louis clears his throat once again and ducks his head, almost shy for a moment. “So,” he begins, “as you all know, Niall and I met as rushers in this very house three and a half years ago, almost to the day. We’ve never been the ones to make grand declarations or deal with feelings much,                but we’re- he’s the very best part of me and I never doubt how important I am to him, as well.”

Niall‘s face is growing redder as Louis continues, and his fingers are gripping at Louis too tightly if the way Louis’ hand is turning white where Niall clutches at him is any indication. He looks a bit overwhelmed, his blue eyes darting around to the people watching. Zayn notices that all of the brothers have pushed forward to form a ring around Louis and Niall, the only exception being Liam, who has stayed back with Zayn, their fingers still linked. The brothers have taken off hats if they were wearing them, hands at their sides as they watch.

Zayn misses the next part of what Louis says, too busy taking in the scene, but he hears it clear enough when Louis asks Niall to marry him. He focuses back on the two in the center of the room, watching with a fond smile as Niall nods and pulls Louis into a hug, tucking his head into Louis’ neck in an obvious effort to hide his now-burgundy cheeks from the rest of the house. The brothers hoot, holler and stomp their feet until Niall tilts his neck back for a kiss and then they’re all whistling and clapping.

Feeling his own eyes grow damp, Zayn wipes at them distractedly as he tugs Liam forward through to the center, pulling Niall and Louis into a hug simultaneously. “Congratulations,” he says, near-shouting into their ears to be heard over the din in the room. Someone, maybe the same person who had turned it off earlier, turns the radio back on and the sounds of generic pop filter through the room.

Eventually, he lets go of them and moves to the side so Liam may take his place, sagging into Liam’s chest once he steps back. Something about the exchange has made Zayn a bit clingy, and he steers Liam away from the group as the others swarm in for their own hugs. He gets them into Liam’s room as quickly as possible. Liam must be on the same page as he is tonight, as he strips them efficiently before pushing Zayn onto the bed and crawling to plank over him.

“Just like this tonight?” Zayn asks him looking up at Liam with wide eyes. He doesn’t want to close them when Liam leans in for a kiss, but he goes cross-eyed and blinks on instinct, wrapping his arms around Liam’s neck and keeping them close. He runs one of his hands along the panes of Liam’s back before dragging his fingers down his arms. The veins in his biceps are full and obvious, and Zayn would normally make a comment on how physically fit Liam is but Liam chooses that moment to deepen the kiss, so Zayn doesn’t say anything at all.

Kissing Liam is absolutely Zayn’s favorite way to pass the time. He loves the way Liam uses the very tips of his fingers against Zayn’s chin to tilt his head back, the way his bottom lips always catches under Zayn’s, the way he almost pants when they part as if he went too long holding his breath. As if the idea of pulling away from Zayn to breathe is a foreign concept.

Unlike his boyfriend, Zayn decides that breathing takes precedence, and he tilts his head further back, causing Liam’s lips to find his chin, jawline and then the vein in Zayn’s neck as Zayn takes a gasp of cool air. He’s so hard where he’s pressed against Liam’s hip, but he’s in no rush. He stares at the ceiling while Liam traces the wing tattoos on Zayn’s collarbones, replaying the looks on Louis and Niall’s faces when they were hugging, the absolute trust and love he could read in their eyes. When he looks down, he sees the same look from Liam and it should scare him, should absolutely terrify him.

It doesn’t.

He gets a hand in Liam’s hair near the nape of his neck, carding his fingers through the strands and guiding Liam gently back to him so they can kiss again, using his free hand to slip down Liam’s back again. He feels a light sheen of sweat that’s built in the long moments they’ve been pressed together, can taste it also where it clings to the bow of his upper lip. His fingers tease along the curve of Liam’s ass, slipping between his cheeks and pressing against his hole until Liam’s breath hitches and he pulls away to groan.

“Baby,” Liam says, pressing his forehead to Zayn’s. Encouraged, Zayn slips the very tip of his finger inside just to feel the way it causes Liam’s hips to hitch forward. The head of his dick is already slick, slipping along Zayn’s skin, and Zayn swallows hard.

Making a decision, he puts his palms flat on Liam’s shoulders and pushes him back. “Want to suck you,” he explains, smirking when Liam’s mouth parts around another groan. “Then I want you to fuck me.” He shifts so he’s out from underneath, helping Liam settle on his back in the middle of the bed before slipping down and sucking Liam in immediately. He moves when Liam’s body shifts up, an automatic reaction, but doesn’t let Liam slip out completely.

Setting a quick rhythm, too fast to go very deep, Zayn keeps one hand around the base of Liam’s dick as his other finds Liam’s hole again. He pulls off before Liam’s hips can hitch up a second time, sucking two of his own fingers into his mouth until they’re dripping with his spit. He waits to take Liam back into his mouth until after he’s worked one finger inside his tight hole, kissing off the bead of precome at the head. He can feel it thick on his lips, lets it sit there for the time it takes him to look up and catch Liam’s eye, until he knows Liam sees it.

“Baby,” Liam repeats. “That’s filthy.” The grin on Liam’s face says it all, and Zayn answers with one of his own before getting his mouth back on Liam’s cock, a second finger teasing at the clutch of his asshole. He doesn’t press it inside and doesn’t take in more than an inch or so, wants this night to last past this moment, but he finds the edge of Liam’s prostate with his index finger and rubs against it teasingly for long moments.

“If you want- oh _fuck_ ,” Liam starts, one hand coming to thread through Zayn’s hair his palm pressing gently against his forehead. Zayn pulls off with a wet sound and a pout, letting his finger slip out as well. Liam takes a breath and tries again. “If you want to fuck, you’re gonna have to stop. I won’t be able to go again so soon.”

“Old man,” Zayn mock grumbles, sitting up on his knees and shifting forward so he can reach into the nightstand and grab the lube and condoms kept there.

Liam squawks in protest, grabbing Zayn’s bare sides and pressing his hands up until he grazes his fingers along Zayn’s armpits. Zayn half-shrieks in surprise, not expecting Liam to play so dirty. He drops the lube on Liam’s chest, trying to squirm away, but Liam gets his arms around his back and brings him close to his chest, though he stops tickling him.

“Not fair,” Zayn says in an exhale, mouth against Liam’s neck. “You fight dirty.” He continues pressing open-mouthed kisses to Liam’s skin, shifting his body so he’s properly straddling Liam’s hips. His dick, having flagged only slightly in their pause, brushes against Liam’s skin. It makes him suck in a breath before biting a hickey into Liam’s pec, just above his nipple. He huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes when Liam curses softly. “Wuss.”

“Sensitive skin.”                                                                                              

“Sensitive, my _ass_ ,” Zayn retorts.

“Wanna find out?” Liam teases, his thick eyebrows wiggling a bit when Zayn looks up from the slight red mark his mouth had left behind.

“You’re a dork and I don’t want to have sex with you anymore,” Zayn lies.

“Oh, good,” Liam plays along, rolling to his side carefully, still mindful that Zayn’s holding himself over Liam’s hips. His movements dislodge Zayn, and he slips his thigh over Liam’s body, knees in Liam’s back as he pretends to curl up on his pillow. “I’m a bit tired,” Liam says. “Didn’t really want to fuck you anyway.”

“Liar.”

“Nah, it’s actually my least favorite thing to do.”

“Liar twice.”

“Good night.”

Zayn glares at the back of Liam’s head, contemplating his next move. He snakes his hand around Liam’s waist- ignoring the sarcastic, “not tonight, baby,” Liam mumbles- and he grabs the discarded bottle of Wet from in front of Liam’s belly. He sees when Liam’s head turns a bit, just enough that his chin rises and he tries to look at Zayn with his peripherals.

“Go to sleep, Liam,” Zayn says, settling on his back and opening the lube. He makes sure to drizzle too much onto his fingers, knowing it’ll be a bitch to clean off the sheets and planning to make Liam in charge of laundry for the next few days. When he’s sufficiently pleased with the mess he’s made, he closes and sets aside the Wet. Making as much noise as possible while he shifts into the best position, he gets a hand under his thigh and teases his slick fingers against his hole until he slips one inside.

Normally, Zayn’s quiet in bed. Having grown up in a full house, he’s trained himself to bite down against grunts and moans that threaten to slip out. He doesn’t keep his sounds down now. The moan he lets out is loud and dramatic, and embarrassment would threaten to set in but his gaze is locked on Liam’s back and the way Liam’s shoulders tense at the sound is enough to make Zayn pant out a genuine, quieter moan.

He slips a second finger in alongside the first quickly, enjoying the obscene sounds he’s making as he digs one heel into the sheets to give himself leverage to rock down onto his hand. Liam’s fidgeting where he’s still turned away, shifting against the sheets. Zayn lets his leg bump against Liam’s as he fakes like he needs to move into a better position. He teases his thumb against his rim, his index and middle finger both stretching him slowly.

It’s not enough.

Over the last six months, he’s become spoiled by Liam and the careful way he always stretches Zayn, even if they’re in a hurry. It’s always thorough with Liam, as if he knows no other way, and Zayn’s so desperate for Liam’s fingers that he almost slips up and concedes defeat. Liam’s name is on the tip of his tongue, and he knows that he could say it and have Liam turn and take care of him. He’s not been called ‘stubborn’ his entire life for nothing, though, and he groans again though he keeps it from turning into Liam’s name. The angle of his fingers is hardly enough, but he’ll make do for as long as it takes until he breaks Liam down.

It’s another moment before Zayn realizes Liam’s arm is moving, realizes that Liam’s jerking off to the sounds he’s making, and he smiles because he knows he’s almost won their stupid standoff. He uses the heel still braced against the bed to shift his hips, his ass completely off the sheets as he lets out a keening whine that he only ever makes when Liam is balls deep. 

It’s nearly Pavlovian, the way Liam’s body tenses and he groans. A second later, he flips to his other side, one hand on Zayn’s sweat-slick hip as he crowds into Zayn’s side.

“Baby-“ he starts.

“I’m busy.”

“I could help.”

“You didn’t want to.”

Liam’s fingers are teasing against Zayn’s hip, small strokes that he feels deep in his gut. He wants those fingers in him, wants to feel Liam stretching him open, but he’s not ready to give in. Not yet.

“I want to now,” Liam says, voice earnest. He somehow gets closer, his lips a tease against Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn groans in frustration when he can’t keep consistent pressure with his fingers. “Let me, baby,” Liam says as he walks his fingers across Zayn’s belly.

Zayn huffs out a breath and slips his fingers out, wiping them on the sheets as he relaxes on his exhale and rests flat against the bed. He turns his head towards Liam. “This doesn’t mean you’ve won,” he warns.

“Tell me ‘yes’,” Liam encourages, pressing his palm against Zayn’s heart tattoo.

“Please,” Zayn says instead, eyes closing when Liam surges forward to bring their mouths together. He’s resting some of his weight on the hand still attached to Zayn, keeping Zayn pinned down. Their kiss is sloppy until Liam pulls back, lifting his hand to wipe against his mouth. “Don’t-“ Zayn starts to protest, before biting down on his words.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t move your hand,” he says. “I liked it there.”

“You want me to keep you still?” Liam asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes.”

Liam’s eyes appear black in the faint light filtering in from outside, his mouth dark and shiny after his tongue darts across his bottom lip. “Just like this tonight?” Liam asks, repeating Zayn’s earlier request.

“Just like this,” Zayn confirms. He resists pouting when Liam pulls away from him to get a condom out of the still-open nightstand drawer. Instead, he busies himself with scooting into the best position, thighs wide around Liam’s narrow hips when he settles back in place, condom set carefully to the side. Zayn buries his hands under the pillow he’s using, blinking up at Liam while he teases the fingers of one hand around Zayn’s slick hole.

“Gonna finish getting you ready,” Liam says, opening the Wet. His eyes are on his hand as he slicks and slips two thick fingers into Zayn’s hole without any further preamble.

The stretch is nothing like how it felt with Zayn’s own hand. Liam’s fingers always feel different and his angle is better, so he’s able to get pressure consistently where Zayn wants it most. Zayn sighs in loss when Liam pulls back from his spot after too short a time, sliding his fingers in deep. His other hand is back on Zayn’s hip, pressure keeping Zayn against the bed. Zayn knows he could break Liam’s grip easily.

He doesn’t even try.

Liam stretches Zayn’s hole like it’s his job, fitting a third finger alongside the first two until he’s seemingly satisfied. Zayn’s sucking on his top lip and fisting his hands underneath his pillow, clenching his abs in a half-hearted effort to ride Liam’s fingers when Liam finally lets them slip out and wastes no time in grabbing for the condom. Zayn closes his eyes and hitches up his hips once with his newfound freedom, missing the weight that had held him in place. When he blinks his eyes open again, it’s to see Liam thrusting into his own fist, spreading a final layer of lube along his cock before he’s wiping his hand off on the ruined sheets. Zayn’s top lip feels bruised when he finally lets it go to moan when Liam’s hands go to his hips, manhandling Zayn a bit farther down the bed so his ass is off the mattress, resting on Liam’s thighs.

“Ready?” Liam asks, squeezing where he’s got a hold on Zayn.

An instant response is on the tip of Zayn’s tongue, something about how long he’s been ready and waiting, but he’s seen what happens when he’s sarcastic and he isn’t willing to go through that again right now. Instead, he brings his hands out from under the pillow, watching Liam’s eyes follow their path down his chest. He slips them under his hips, down the slight curve of his ass and then spreads his cheeks. Liam’s eyes open a bit wider, lips parting around a sigh as Zayn stretches his reach, the tips of his middle fingers slipping into his hole.

“Fuck,” Liam says, gaze never wavering while Zayn continues to press his fingers inside, feeling the stretch for himself. “Baby, I need to.”

“C’mon,” Zayn says, curling his fingers into his own thighs and spreading his legs wider somehow. He feels the stretch in his hips already, moreso when Liam finally closes the distance between them, a hand helping to guide his cock finally.

Zayn groans out a few choice curses as he feels the depth of the stretch, the way Liam’s cock fits so perfectly in him that it’s near fucking poetic. He says as much to Liam, gritting his teeth between words as Liam swivels his hips before he’s all the way inside, dragging out an inch just to force back inside even deeper than before.

“You saying I was made for you?” Liam asks, huffing out a laugh when his hips finally stop pressing forward. “That you take me so fucking well because I’m perfect for you?”

“I’m fucking swooning here.” And maybe he hasn’t lost his sarcastic edge after all.

Liam doesn’t seem to mind, grinning as he catches Zayn’s eye and pulls back. Zayn will never admit how strongly he feels the loss, though it’s always brief before Liam is thrusting forward again. He lets his legs go when Liam starts using his grip on Zayn’s hips to pull his body into each thrust. One of his hands go to Liam’s shoulder, digging into the muscle there whicle his other goes to his own hair. He cards his fingers through his own thick locks, scratching his nails against his scalp to distract from the perfect way Liam’s fucking into him. His shoulders are dragging against the sheets, Liam’s huge hands keeping Zayn moving in the pace he’s set.

It’s not exactly what Zayn had thought he wanted when he’d dragged Liam away from the brothers circling Louis and Niall, it isn’t the soft and slow that he thought the proposal would have inspired. It’s better because it’s _them_ , the tickling and teasing and jokes that always make up their time together. Zayn gets lost, for a moment, in his thoughts about how well he works with Liam always. About how perfect he feels when he’s with Liam.

He doesn’t realize he’s thinking so much until he’s startled out of his own head by Liam shifting, pulling all the way out and swarming up the bed so their chests are pressed together.

“I don’t like when you’re not paying attention to me,” Liam teases, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the line of Zayn’s jaw.

“Sorry,” Zayn says. “Thinking.”

“Should I be offended?”

Zayn laughs, shifting a bit now that he’s lying flat on the bed again. His thighs are still bracketing Liam’s hips, and Zayn uses the bit of leverage he has to press his cock into the soft of Liam’s belly. “This is all because ‘f you,” he assures.

“Funny, this is all ‘cause of _you_ ,” Liam replies, the head of his cock catching at Zayn’s rim. Zayn laughs at the cheesy line and gently slaps his open palm to Liam’s cheek. Liam smiles and presses a kiss to his hand even as he gets his own hand around his dick and presses relentlessly back inside. Zayn moans at the breach, whimpering into Liam’s mouth when he lifts his head for a kiss. It’s distracted and sloppy. Neither of them can put much effort into it, but Zayn needs the connection. He follows when Liam makes to move back.

“Liam, please.”

“Baby, I know. Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Already are,” Zayn assures him, finally letting him pull back.

Liam presses his forehead to the pillow next to Zayn’s head as he mouths at Zayn’s shoulder, hands gripping underneath Zayn’s thighs and hiking them higher around his waist. Zayn feels the stretch in his abdomen, his muscles pulling taut as Liam fucks into him harder and harder. Their words fade away as they both finally chase their orgasms, one of Zayn’s arms over Liam’s shoulder but the other between them so his hand can tug himself off.

“Fuck, not gonna last much longer,” Liam admits, biting at Zayn’s skin.

“S’okay,” Zayn assures him, close himself. The sharp stings of Liam’s teeth are all he needs, the slight bit of contrast that has him gritting his teeth and letting his head fall back as his orgasm smashes into him.

It’s only a couple seconds of absolute euphoria, where Zayn suddenly feels a thousand things at once. When it’s over, he feels like he crash lands back on earth, just in time to hear the grunt Liam makes when he spills into the condom, the whine that follows when his hips finish their last thrusts. Zayn always laughs after a good orgasm, even if he’s by himself, and he giggles into Liam’s shoulder as Liam pulls out and lets his muscles relax. He’s heavy where he’s lying on top of Zayn, pressing him into the mattress, but Zayn knows Liam won’t rest for too long so he lets him have his moment.

Indeed, not thirty seconds later, Liam is rolling to the side and frowning as he deals with the condom. He grabs a few Kleenex tissues and passes one to Zayn, who rolls his eyes and cleans his own spunk from his belly. “There was a time you would’ve done this for me.”

Liam laughs, tossing his own to the ground. “There was a time I’d have licked it off of you.”

“You still would.”

“Probably, maybe next time.” Liam’s still smiling as he gets up from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Gotta change the sheets. Don’t think I didn’t realize how much lube you spilled just to make a mess.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zayn sniffs, getting up as well and picking up the discarded tissues. He tosses them into the garbage can shoved in the corner near Liam’s desk, then scratches distractedly at his belly as if he can still feel the traces there. “Think I’m gonna have a shower.”

He pulls on his own discarded pair of boxer-briefs, grabbing a towel from Liam’s pile and heading out the door and across the hall to the bathroom there. It’s completely open for any of the others to use whenever, but it’s nearest to the rooms set aside for the frat president and vice president, so he usually only runs into Louis or Niall. It makes it easy to avoid any walks of shame, though the brothers have generally taken it easy on Zayn with their teasing. He thinks it has to do with a couple of rushers losing their chance at a spot when Zayn first came onto the scene, as if the brothers are afraid of disrespecting Zayn and being kicked out now. But Zayn knows it could just as easily have to do with how much the frat loves Liam and how they might be genuinely nice people, after all.

Nah, it’s probably the first thing.

Zayn hums a bit to himself as he’s washing up, gritting his teeth and doing a thorough job so he won’t regret being lazy in the morning. He’s dried off and back in Liam’s room in ten minutes, if that, but he’s surprised to see Liam already passed out on the newly-made bed. Zayn laughs, dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of Liam’s boxers before crawling in next to him.

The sheets now are emerald green like the school’s colors, and Zayn has a moment where he remembers the first time they’d had sex. It had been these sheets exactly, and he runs his hand along the space between his body and Liam’s, remembering when Liam had told him how good Zayn had looked in Liam’s bed. He’d chalked it up to pillow talk, something sweet and dumb Liam said in the moment, but he’s come to learn just how genuinely Liam means it. He closes the space between them, pressing a few soft kisses to Liam’s lips and smiling when Liam scrunches his face and pseudo-responds.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, pressing a last kiss to Liam’s hairline before pulling the comforter over their bare shoulders and letting sleep wash over him in slow, gentle waves.

 

 

April begins cold and snowy, as if the late-March heat wave had been a dream. Even by the middle of the month, temperatures remain at near-record lows.

Zayn wears Liam’s scarf all around campus, the Phi Kappa Sigma logo a bright gold against the black wool. His usual waiter at the local Thai restaurant teases him a bit, calls Zayn branded but tosses in an extra side of plum sauce so Zayn doesn’t mind too much. He eats his spring rolls on the 01 bus to the mall, licking his fingers and wiping them on his pants.

It’s still Liam’s responsibility to do the laundry, Zayn doesn’t mind.

He gets off at the Meridian Mall stop, glancing around for Louis and heading across the mall parking lot when he doesn’t see him. Zayn knows where to go and, sure enough, Louis’ paying for two smoothies when Zayn tracks him down, handing the blue one to Zayn.

“Blueberry pineapple,” Louis says with a grimace, already mouthing at the straw to his boring banana only smoothie.

“Have you even tried it?” Zayn asks with a smile, already knowing the answer.

“Of course not, it’s disgusting.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and heads away, walking towards the nearest department store. “I probably won’t be too long, Safaa sent a picture of the perfume bottles closest to empty on Doniya’s shelf. Is there anything you want to look for?”

“Not really,” Louis shrugs. His jacket is too light for the current cold snap, but it’s warm enough in the stores. “Maybe something for Niall if I see it.”

“Your _fiancé_ ,” Zayn teases, making a beeline for the Marc Jacobs counter.

“Keep teasing, you’re up next,” Louis mutters.

So startled by Louis’ comment, Zayn doesn’t realize how close he is to the counter, catching his hip on the corner and sending a tray of bottles rocking. The noise they make is loud, and Zayn holds his breath until he’s certain none of the bottles will fall over. A sales assistant rushes over, scooting the tray to the side and out of Zayn’s apparent strike zone.

“Can I help you find something?” she asks, not unpleasant but a bit wary of Zayn.

“Um, I don’t-“ he’s flustered, can’t really focus. He looks around desperately for a second before fumbling his phone out of his pocket and opening his messages. He thumbs to his conversation with Safaa, opening the picture she’d sent and pointing to the emptiest bottle. “Can you help me with this one? It’s for my sister’s birthday.”

He’s dimly aware of Louis laughing at him, and he wishes a brain freeze on him as he watches him slurp at his yellow smoothie. The sales associate finds him the exact bottle within a minute, asking him if he wants it gift wrapped and Zayn nods dully. She casts him a last glance, as if unsure that he’ll be able to manage to not knock anything over, before heading away.

“Why did I ask you to come with me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but that’s never stopped Louis from answering before. “Because you love me second best in the whole world.”

“Not true, I love Niall second best and Harry third.”

“Psh.”

Zayn doesn’t continue the exchange, drumming his fingers on the glass until it earns him a glare from a passing sales man. Louis’ blessedly silent for the entire time it takes the girl assisting them to return, the bottle in a pretty box with a wide ribbon tied around it. She passes it over with a friendly smile, asking if he was looking for anything further.

“I’m alright, thanks,” he says, handing over his credit card and signing the receipt a moment later. He declines a bag and slips the box carefully into his backpack, shouldering it and heading back into the main part of the mall. Louis’ close on his heels, typing away on his phone.

“Wanna get something to eat?” Louis asks, pocketing his phone.

“I’m okay.”

“Alright, um,” and here Louis pauses. Zayn glances at him, frowning when he notices Louis is pushing at his cuticles. It’s his poker tell, a fact Zayn cottoned onto quickly. “I need shoes.”

“I asked if you needed to look at anything, and you said no.”

“Changed my mind. Is that a crime, Malik?”

Zayn shrugs, giving Louis the side-eye as he follows him into one of the dozen shoe shops in the mall. He’s interested to learn the reason behind Louis’ current strangeness- there’s always a small level of strangeness, after all- but he’s learned that Louis doesn’t keep secrets for no reason. Zayn can wait to find out what the mystery is for.

Over the next half hour, Zayn pushes the nagging curiosity from his mind. He enjoys shoe shopping, even more so with Louis. They bicker back and forth over a pair they both quite like, and Zayn makes up his mind to let Louis have them a full five minutes before he actually lets the argument go. He forces Louis to stop at the smoothie place again before they leave, coaxing the girl into making a lemon, kiwi and blueberry mix with his most charming smile. Louis makes gagging sounds as he tries to talk her out of it, but more customers step up before too long and Louis orders his boring smoothie and drops the topic.

They step to the side, Zayn wandering to a jewelry store while the blenders start up. He’s careful to keep his fingers from the glass, aware of the employee side-eyeing his ripped jeans and ratty coat. Instead of bristling at the judgment the way he would have in high school, he just glances around the front case for a moment until his order is called.

Louis is giving him a strange look through his fringe while he clicks away on his phone, but Zayn doesn’t give it much thought as he grabs his smoothie and leads them back through the mall to the parking lot and the to the bus stop. The wind is bitter, and he tucks his nose into Liam’s scarf.

If anyone hates the cold more than Zayn does, it’s Louis. He lashes out, pushing and pinching at Zayn until they’re horsing around under the covered bus shelter in the five minutes it takes the 01 bus to arrive. It’s mostly empty and they pick a seat near the middle doors, Louis letting Zayn rest his head on his shoulder. He dozes off quickly for the fifteen minute ride.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Louis mutters too soon. “Prince Charming awaits.”

“Hmm?”

Zayn isn’t always in the best shape when he wakes up from a cat nap, his brain a little sluggish and reflexes delayed. It’s how he almost misses getting off at his stop, Louis having rushed off the bus already, nearly leaving Zayn behind.

“Asshole,” Zayn mutters, adjusting his bag and turning around to head to the frat.

He gets a kiss on his cheek as his hands are still stuck under the straps of his bag and then Louis is running full-pelt towards the frat, leaving Zayn behind to trudge along. He doesn’t bother running, leaving Louis to his strangeness, and lights up a cigarette as he drags his feet along the weed-riddled sidewalk.

He sees a patch of dandelions at the corner of the frat’s lawn, remembering when he was younger and he would make wishes on them with his sister. He snaps a picture to Doniya, drawing a stick person blowing the seeds away before he stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray on the porch, opening the front door and kicking off his shoes.

The frat is dark, which is strange enough for early evening, but it’s also completely silent. Zayn has learned to not trust any silence when Louis is around. Expecting to be hit with a water balloon or by a paintball gun, he awkwardly holds his backpack in front of his body as he edges through the archway and into the kitchen.

“Louis, you better not do something stupid,” he calls out, the room remaining eerily quiet as his eyes adjust to the dark and he heads into the living room. Inside, he finds what appears to be the entire frat standing in a cleared-out space, the seating all pushed to the walls. “Are we having a party?” he asks with a grin, dropping his bag near the fireplace.

The brothers don’t say anything, though many are smiling. Zayn notes they’re all wearing formal clothes and holding roses in varying shades.

“What is this?”

A brother he’s only had minor conversations with steps forward, a white rose outstretched. “Every time you skip a morning run.”

Before Zayn can repeat himself, the same question on repeat in his head, the rose is forced into his hand and the brother steps back in line. Another takes his place almost immediately, his rose yellow. “The way you love your family.”

The next brother’s rose is white, again. “Your laugh.”

Realizing they’re all reasons Liam loves him- all the sweet things Liam whispers to him when Zayn’s feeling needy and asks for compliments- Zayn feels his stomach drop, nearly losing his hold on the flowers as well.

A pink rose that looks near purple is passed to him next. “The way you looked scared the first time you told me that you loved me but you said it anyway.”

An orange rose, a surprising enough color that Zayn pauses before accepting it. “You always say something surprising,” Michael, a senior in the frat, says with a grin.

The next is pink. “The way you made me soup when I was sick.”

Pink again. “The way you ate the soup I made when you were sick.”

Zayn’s starting to feel sick again, if he’s honest, but he forces a laugh. He knows Liam was moved by Louis and Niall’s engagement, but he never thought they were in the same place. They’ve been dating barely eight months. It doesn’t make sense.

If it looks like an engagement thing and sounds like an engagement thing, it’s possible it’s an engagement thing.

Part of him keeps in mind that Louis might still be staging an elaborate prank, but as two more brothers step forward with flowers and reasons why he’s loved, he knows that this is Liam. Louis most likely had a hand in planning, but every moment speaks Liam’s name. His nerves and excitement are both hitching higher with every flower he receives.

When most of the flowers have been given, Harry steps forward, smile wide and dimples deep. “The way you get upset if someone insults Marvel.”

Zayn takes the red rose offered to him with a small thanks, bringing his growing bouquet to his nose. Roses tend to remind him of funerals, but the mix in his hand smells lovely, like an idyllic garden. He looks up to see Niall, and his smile stalls. If Niall’s up then Louis and Liam must both be close and the endgame will be revealed. Zayn’s not sure if he’s ready for it, or knows how he’s going to respond.

“For the times you probably hate me but tell me you love me anyway,” Niall says, a flush clear on his cheeks even in the dim lighting. He passes a rose to Zayn, the red dark against his pale skin until Zayn tucks it carefully between a white rose and a yellow one.

“For being my best friend,” a voice says, and Zayn looks up to see Louis- in the same sweat pants he had worn to the mall, but a dinner jacket over his tshirt- holding another red flower. Zayn takes it, hand shaking. Louis smirks at him and Zayn tries to smile back, though he doesn’t think he’s pulling it off. Like a flash, he remembers Louis’ soft ‘you’re up next’ from the department store and he feels so, so stupid. How did he not see this coming? If he had just talked to Liam about it explicitly, had talked about how soon it was, he could have avoided this entire evening.

He sniffs his bouquet again, panicking only a little. Zayn turns when Louis makes a motion with his finger to do so. Liam’s standing in the open archway from the foyer, a single rose in one hand while his other is in a fist, clearly holding something.

“Liam,” Zayn says, eyes wide. He wants to cross the room and stop this. He wants to stay rooted to the floor and never move again. He wants Liam to say something now, right now, before Zayn has to make a decision.

Thankfully, Liam steps forward right then. He crosses the short distance between them, their toes nearly touching when he finally stops. Liam smiles at him, bright and happy, as he tucks his final rose into Zayn’s hand. “I have so many reasons to love you,” Liam admits. “I know this is cheesy and I know you’ll give me hell about it for probably the rest of my life, but I also know how much you like big gestures so.” He waves his hand, indicating the brothers who have stepped up behind Zayn, forming a semi circle. It’s so similar to when Louis proposed to Niall that Zayn feels another jolt of panic.

“Liam, wait,” he tries, but Liam cuts him off with his now empty hand held up, palm out.

“I just, let me say this before I forget any of my words,” Liam laughs. “I love you. For the reasons we’ve told you tonight and so, so many more. I love the way you are, I love every part of you I know, and I want to take the next step with you.”

Zayn feels over warm and like he can’t take a full breath. He grits his teeth, sucking air into his lungs and exhaling slowly. He can’t go forward, he can’t do this. Liam’s going to propose and Zayn is going to have to say yes, because saying no to him in front of his brothers would be too cruel. But he’s too young, they’re both too young, to do this.

“I know that we’ll be in different schools next year, and that’s going to suck trying to deal with. I know it won’t be as easy as we’ve had it this year, but I also know that I don’t care to pursue any other alternate: I’m all in, always. And, while we’re apart next year, I want you to know that you’ll always find a place here for you. Phi Kappa Sigma is your home, too. With that said, I have something I need to ask you.”

“Li-“ Zayn tries to say, but his voice is caught in his throat and he can’t get a sound out. This is too soon, too much. He knows Liam is a romantic at heart, but Zayn can’t let him ask his next question. He can’t, knowing his answer shouldn’t be a ‘yes’. It’s too soon. Too, too soon.

“Zayn Javadd Malik, I’ve been in love with you since almost the first night we met. Your stubbornness and sarcasm, combined with your ridiculous joy and gentleness, keep me excited to wake up every morning and talk to you. I’ll miss seeing you every day. Knowing you have a place here with my brothers will make me feel better about being far away from you.”

Zayn bites his bottom lip, cheeks flushed dark as Liam takes his hand and links their fingers.

“What I’m trying to ask, I guess, is this: Zayn, will you accept my pin as a sign that I’m yours, completely, and that my home is your home, my brothers are your brothers?”

“I- what?” Zayn asks, surprised and near speechless. That is _not_ the question he expected, and he tells near microscopic of disappointment that he feels to get lost.

Liam holds open his hand, the one that’s been in a loose fist the entire time. His member badge sits in the palm of his hand, a gold Maltese cross with a black border. At the center sits the fraternity’s skull and crossbones insignia, surrounded by the Greek letters Phi, Kappa and Sigma.

“I was given this pin when I became a full member of the frat, and it’s been my most prized possession since then. I want you to wear it, to keep it safe for me. And a little bit because I like the thought of you wearing something of mine around.”

Zayn can’t help it. He laughs.

It’s not a quiet or refrained giggle, but a full belly laugh that he can’t control right away. Liam’s smile dims slightly as he watches Zayn, clearly confused by the reaction. Zayn covers his mouth with the hand holding his flowers, curbing his laughter as quickly as he can. He lets Liam raise their entwined hands, clenching his fist around the pin when Liam presses it into his palm.

“I’m sorry for laughing,” Zayn says, rubbing his thumb over the etchings of his pin. He turns it over, sees Liam’s name and class year carved on the back along with a serpent and some Roman numerals Zayn doesn’t care to currently decode. He passes the pin back to Liam, smiling brightly at him. “Will you put it on me?” he asks.

Liam’s grin grows again as he nods, shuffling a fraction closer and getting a hand under the collar of Zayn’s shirt to pull it forward from his chest. Liam is quick at pinning the badge over Zayn’s heart, smoothing any wrinkles out of the shirt before stepping back.

“How does it look?” Zayn asks.

Liam’s eyes are focused on the pin for a long moment, and Zayn is shocked to see how dark they are when he meets Zayn’s gaze. “Good,” is all Liam says. He’s biting at his bottom lip, and Zayn shivers a bit to see how proper caveman Liam is behaving, suddenly keyed up simply because Zayn’s wearing his letters.

The brothers all file past them, shaking Zayn’s hand and ‘welcoming him’ to the fraternity, as if Zayn hasn’t practically lived there since the beginning of the year. Most of the brothers don’t stick around for long after, wandering off to kill the rest of their Saturday evening elsewhere, but Louis and Niall stay close for far too long for Zayn’s liking. He wants to get Liam in bed, wants to take advantage of the possessive way Liam’s hand has been on the small of Zayn’s back for the parade of frat brothers.

“I’m a bit relieved,” Zayn admits, elbowing Liam in the ribs gently.

Liam rubs at the spot distractedly, looking out the back window as he asks, “Relieved about what?”

“I thought you were going to propose for a second.” Liam turns to look at him quickly. “No, no, I know. We’re not even close to that. That’s why I’m relieved. I didn’t know it was just you pinning me. I would have been much calmer during it if I had known.”

“Just pinning you?” Liam echoes, his smile faded and a frown on his lips.

“Yeah,” Zayn nods his head. “I thought it was a ring, you know, so I’m glad it’s not that level.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Louis pull a face. When Zayn looks at him, he can’t read the wide-eyed look on his face, but he notes how pale Louis looks. “Y’alight?”

Louis makes an aborted move between nodding and shaking his head, and Zayn’s still frowning at him when he turns around and walks away. Zayn shifts, tucking himself into Liam’s side and noting abstractly the tension in his posture.

“Want to go to bed?” he asks, not even bothering to keep his voice down. He looks up at Liam through his lashes, a move practiced, tried and true.

Liam looks startled, though, and his face is pale. Zayn wonders for a moment if he’s coming down with an illness, but he doesn’t have a chance to say anything when Liam nods and squeezes his hand at Zayn’s waist. He walks them to the bedroom but then suddenly stops at the closed door.

“What is it?” Zayn asks, keeping his voice soft. He doesn’t know why but it feels like he needs to whisper. He’s never before felt unsettled around Liam, but right now he does.

“Um,” Liam says, clearly stalling. “Why don’t you take the bathroom first? I’ll be along in a minute.”

Frowning, Zayn agrees. Liam takes the bunch of roses from him silently before Zayn steps across the hall and into the bathroom, relieving himself and brushing his teeth in quiet succession. He hesitates before stepping into Liam’s bedroom, wondering if he’s missed something terribly obvious. The whole evening had seemed romantic and upbeat, but Liam’s sudden attitude change makes Zayn anxious.

He knocks. He’s never once knocked on Liam’s door. He stands there awkwardly as he waits for Liam to open it. He hears shuffling, a muffled curse, and wonders if he should just go in when Liam’s face finally appears. He thinks he sees a flash of disappointment in Liam’s eyes before an awkward smile replaces it.

“Didn’t know it was you,” Liam excuses, still not opening the door more than a crack.

“Yeah,” Zayn says.

“You don’t normally knock.”

Zayn shrugs. Liam seems to realize he’s still blocking the door, and he steps back and glances over his shoulder as he lets Zayn slip past him.

Liam’s a generally tidy person, but his room is scrubbed clean past the point Zayn’s ever seen it. There’s nothing sticking out from under the bed, the hamper appears to be empty, and even his dresser is cleared of its usual clutter. Zayn can smell the roses still, but he doesn’t see them as he looks around.

Nothing really makes sense.

Deciding to just let it be for the night, Zayn leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Liam’s lips. “I love you,” he says, because no matter how uncertain the night has turned, Zayn will never be uncertain about that.

“I love you, too,” Liam says, eyes downcast as he leans in for another kiss. He drags this one out a bit longer, his hand cold against Zayn’s chin as he holds him in place. Liam pulls back, pressing one last open mouthed kiss to Zayn’s bottom lip. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He seems reluctant to let Zayn go but he does, flashing a hesitant smile before practically fleeing from the room. Zayn hears the shower start a moment later, and he sighs as he kicks off his clothes. He folds his jeans to re-wear and puts his shirt in the hamper, noticing a crumpled up towel at the bottom that had escaped his attention before. Something red is peeking out from underneath and he lifts the edge to reveal the rose bouquet Liam’s brothers had given him one-by-one.

Feeling sick down to his very core, Zayn covers the flowers again. He pulls on a pair of his own sweatpants and gets into bed, tucking himself under the comforter and resting his head on his pillow. His mind races with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on any one, specifically.

He’s tired to the bone, the emotions of the last hour having drained him. He checks his phone as he sets it on the bedside table, frowning when it reads only eight o’clock. He lets go of it and closes his eyes, ignoring the sting of tears he feels as he fails to process the events of the day.

Suddenly, he remembers the pin still on his discarded shirt, and he tosses the blanket off himself. He rushes to the hamper, grabbing his shirt. He carefully undoes the pin, clasping it together again and letting his shirt fall back into the basket. He sets it down next to his cell phone before getting back in bed.

He’s restless and anxious as he waits for Liam’s shower to finish. Zayn finally hears the water turn off and Liam comes in a moment later, shuffling around the room quietly as if he thinks Zayn is sleeping. Taking the easy way out, Zayn goes with the deception, keeping his breathing as slow and quiet as he can.

The jig is up when Liam joins him on the bed. “G’night,” Liam says, voice low.

Zayn turns to face him. “Are you upset with me? Did I- is there something I did wrong?”

In the dark, Zayn can’t read Liam’s expression but he can see when Liam’s mouth opens. “I’m not upset with you, baby,” Liam says, lifting an arm and wrapping it around Zayn’s waist to tug him closer.

Zayn goes willingly, responding eagerly when their lips meet. It’s sweet and slow, and some of the tension melts out of him at the reminder of Liam’s touch. Most of it remains, though. They break apart quicker than Zayn would have liked, and Liam tucks Zayn’s head against his chest in their usual sleeping arrangement.

It takes Zayn ages, and he can tell that Liam’s still awake, but Zayn finally doses off.

 

 

The next morning, Zayn wakes before Liam. He doesn’t bother change out of his pajamas, just grabs one of his clean t-shirts, his phone, and Liam’s pin before walking out of Liam’s room. He steps into the bathroom and pisses quickly, washing his hands and brushing his teeth all while expertly avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. He slips his shirt on and pockets the rest of his things, stuffing his feet into his shoes where they’re stored near the front door.

He walks out of the frat house without speaking to anyone, his steps heavy as he heads back to his dorm.

 

 

The first day, Liam texts him when he wakes up to see where he’d gone. Zayn lies about needing a quiet place to study. Liam texts back a thumbs up emoji, which makes Zayn cringe because his boyfriend is the very last person to use any legitimate emojis. He’ll end random texts with lady bugs or fireworks, but he almost never uses an emoji that can be interpreted easily. It’s one of the most endearing things about him.

The second day they meet up for coffee and breakfast before Zayn’s classes start. Liam holds his hand over the table easily but he rarely takes his eyes off of his pin where it’s clasped to Zayn’s sweater, right over his heart where Liam had originally placed it. Though Zayn asks multiple times if everything is okay, Liam never explains what is bothering him.

After that, they slip into a routine where they meet up for meals every other day or so, but the conversations are usually stilted and Zayn always returns to his dorm at night. It’s strange and unlike them, but Zayn can’t get a read on their situation. He’s fully aware that he is retreating into the shell he’d built to protect himself a long time ago, a shell that Liam, Louis and Niall had all strived to pull him from. He can’t stop it, though.

 

 

Life in the dorms is boring.

 

 

“I think I’m going to make a beautiful bride and you’re going to miss it.”

Zayn looks up from the homework he’s half-attempting to complete correctly to find Louis in his doorframe, surveying the place like it’s the first time he’s seen it. Zayn frowns. “You’re not going to be a bride: you and Niall are both going to be grooms.”

“That’s boring,” Louis dismisses with a wave of his hand, inviting himself in and plopping down on Zayn’s shit dorm mattress. “I didn’t realize you ever came back here. Seems like you practically lived with us.”

Zayn turns back to his books, frowning harder. “That’s not true. I’m here all the time.”

“Not really,” Jordan says from his bed, flipping through one of Zayn’s comic books. Zayn glances at him, betrayed. He only lets a select few rifle through his things, and Jordan’s going to lose that privilege if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut. He opens his mouth to say something when Jordan looks over to him. “What? You used to come by every couple weeks or before a big exam. That’s literally it. Now you’ve been here a week, it’s weird.”

Zayn scowls at the both of them. “Whatever, I’m not in the mood to debate my right to be in my own dorm room.”

“No one’s taking your right away,” Louis insists, kicking off his shoes and scooting until he’s sitting across the width of the bed, his back to the wall and his feet kicked forward.

“Make yourself at home,” Zayn says, sarcasm dripping from every word as he turns back to his book.

It’s silent for too long, so Zayn chances a glance across the room to find Louis staring at him, pensive. His arms are folded across his chest and he’s got a worried expression on his face, his mouth in a pout and his brows furrowed. It makes Zayn shift in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Something you want to say?” he finally asks, unwilling to have an actual stand-off with Louis.

“I’ve got class, anyway,” Jordan says, rolling off his bed and replacing Zayn’s comic carefully before he grabs his backpack and coat and leaves.

“Spit it out, Lou.”

“Why are you hiding from Liam?”

Zayn scowls again. “I just saw Liam last night. We had dinner.”

“Why didn’t you come back to the frat?”

“I didn’t know my personal decisions were so important to you.”

“Oh, cut the shit,” Louis sighs, clearly impatient. “We’re your friends, too, but you’ve nearly cut off Niall and I completely. Even Harry says he hardly ever talks to you, and he lives right down the hall here.”

Shrugging, Zayn closes his text and shoves his papers into a folder, knowing he won’t have the concentration to work on anything further. He swivels in his chair so he’s facing Louis better, copying the fold of his arms and sticking out his chin.

“I’ve been busy with homework.” The excuse sounds dumb even to his own ear, but he has been filling his time with working ahead in all of his classes. He isn’t technically lying.

“Did you two get in a fight that Liam isn’t telling us about?”

“Not even joking, but my relationship with Liam is honestly none of your business. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Bro, Liam is my best fucking friend and is terrible at sticking up for himself when it’s to someone he loves. If you’ve hurt him, I’ve a right to yell at your or at least yell at _him_ to yell at you.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Zayn snaps.

“So Liam did something, then? He usually tells us when he messes up,” Louis says, the last part sounding like he’s speaking to himself.

“Nobody did anything, nothing’s wrong.”

“Then where have you been?”

“God, Louis. You’re like a dog with a bone.”

Louis rolls his eyes, tucking his hands between his back and the wall. “I just want to know what happened. Everything was great and then you ghosted.”

“Liam hasn’t exactly asked me to come back with him, you know. This isn’t all on me.”

“So, something did happen. Was it him giving you his pin? Did it freak you out?”

“Why would that freak me out? ‘S just his pin.”

Once again, Louis’ face changes. He pulls an expression Zayn doesn’t immediately recognize. It worries him that he’s said something wrong, somehow, again. “When you say it’s ‘just his pin’, what do you mean?” Louis asks.

“Well, it’s just a frat thing, isn’t it? You said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“When did I- no I didn’t?”

Zayn stares at him, getting mad. “You told me I would have to just stand there and look pretty.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” Louis curses, scooting off the bed and standing. He paces across the floor twice, stopping and standing in front Zayn. “Get up.”

“Louis, c’mon.”

“Zayn, I said that so I wouldn’t stress you out about it, but pinning someone is one of the biggest declarations of love possible, especially for Liam. I didn’t want you to be nervous, because he and I had already been talking about it, and I knew how you’d probably shit the bed if you knew what it meant.”

“What the fuck?” Zayn is fully angry, now. He stands. “Why would you do that?”

“I just told you!”

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Zayn snaps.

“Well, I thought you’d maybe look into it or had heard about it, or something. You and Harry are close, I thought you’d ask him.”

“I asked _you_. I trusted you.”

“Well, here’s the truth: asking Niall to wear my pin was the most stressful day of my life. I practiced a stupid speech about twenty times and made myself sick over it, which is stupid because me giving him my pin was literally useless since his is near identical to mine.”

Despite his annoyed state, Zayn smiles and calms down at the sincerity in Louis’ tone.

“But, I know the pin he wears on his shirt has my name on it, and the pin I wear on mine is engraved with his. It’s a little thing, but it means everything to me and everything to him. Niall and I aren’t always as openly affectionate as people think we should be, but we show our love in our own way.”

“Louis, I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Louis says, the tension in his shoulders bleeding out. “I didn’t help you by not explaining what it meant to be pinned. I didn’t think it would cause this distance. What happened with you and Liam?”

Zayn exhales audibly. “I fucked up, man. I think I treated it like a joke and Liam didn’t know how to tell me what I’d done, so we’ve just been in a weird limbo since.”

“Just go talk to him,” Louis says.

“It’s not going to be that easy.”

“Well, do something soon because your dorm is cold and it smells like burnt coffee and dirty underwear.”

With that, Louis stomps from the room. Feeling stressed, Zayn slips into autopilot mode. He shuts the blinds and turns off the overhead lights, plunging the room into darkness though it’s still early afternoon. He grabs his cell phone from its charger on the nightstand and slips under the covers, pulling them over his shoulders as he opens his recent call log. His mom is at the top, and he taps the picture he has set for her, twisting his feet in the excess sheets as he listens to it ringing.

“Hello, sunshine.”

His mother’s voice immediately soothes some of his nerves. Zayn isn’t even ashamed of the way his voice nearly breaks. “Mom, I messed up with Liam and I don’t know what to do.”

 

 

Steeling himself for immediate rejection and even swifter humiliation, Zayn rings the doorbell to the frat house an hour after ending his phone call home. He has his backpack over his shoulders and two bags of carry out dinner in his hand. He’s fidgeting, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right and then back again when the door finally opens.

Niall gives him a long look, face blank for all of thirty seconds before he grins and stands back enough to let Zayn in. “Anything in those bags for me? ‘M starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Zayn says, but he passes one of the bags over. “Is Liam in?”

“He’s been pouting in his room pretty much constantly since you two broke up,” Niall says, already opening the top styrofoam container and sniffing at the noodles. “You’re the best person Li’s ever dated, though, so I’m pulling for you.”

Zayn rolls his eyes even as he kicks off his shoes and nudges them into a somewhat-straight line next to the door. “We didn’t break up and you only like me because I feed you.”

Niall doesn’t disagree, already heading into the kitchen with the open container still held to his nose. Zayn heads to Liam’s room, hesitating before deciding to knock again.

“’S open,” he hears, and he twists the handle gently before letting the door swing wide.

Liam’s sprawled out on his bed, textbooks and folders spread around him. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants so threadbare Zayn’s begged him to toss them out for ages, and a plain, dirty white t-shirt that has seen cleaner days. He looks comfortable and beautiful. Zayn almost gets angry with himself for nearly ruining everything but then Liam looks up and his face pulls a complicated expression that Zayn never wants to see again.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Liam asks, brows furrowed as if he’s genuinely confused. He’s too good of a person to have blamed their recent distance on Zayn, had probably taken the responsibility on his own shoulders, and Zayn can’t allow that to continue. Zayn sets down the bag of take out he’d brought, shifting his backpack from his shoulders and clutching it in his hands.

“I treated your pin like a joke. I didn’t understand the significance-“

“Zayn, it’s no big deal,” Liam starts to say, but Zayn puts up a hand, palm facing out to stop him.

“Hold on. It is a big deal, and I should have treated it as a serious thing even if I didn’t know it was because I know _you_. You’re the guy who believes in big gestures, and I saw that this was one but I didn’t give it the respect it deserved. You asked me to wear your _pin_ , you trusted me with such an important piece of you, and I’m sorry that I laughed it off.”

Liam’s shifted as Zayn’s been talking, sitting up now and meeting Zayn’s gaze. He doesn’t speak right away, a fact for which Zayn is thankful because he doesn’t think he could get out everything he needs to say otherwise. He isn’t one for speeches, but calling home had given him the courage and inspiration needed to say what he’s been feeling.

“The thing is, I know now how important it was. I know why you did it. You want me to have a part of you when you’re not here anymore. But not just any part: your frat is important to you because they’re your family. And I brought something to show you that I understand how important family is.”

“Dinner?” Liam asks, brows furrowed and mouth frowning in confusion.

“No. I mean, yes I brought dinner, too. But I have something else for you.”

Liam shifts again, stacking his books and folders together and clearing his bed before scooting forward to the edge, his feet hitting the floor softly. Zayn steps closer nervously, smiling when Liam holds his arms out and invites him nearer still. His hands are gentle on Zayn’s hips. Liam tilts his head back for a kiss, lips pursed and eyes closed, and Zayn melts into his hold as he brings their mouths together. Nothing has ever felt as safe as being with Liam, and Zayn lets the kiss linger before he forces himself to stop and take a half-step back.

“I love you.”

Liam smiles. “I love you, too. Always, you know that.”

“I do. And I love that you trusted me with your pin. I realize the importance now and I have something I want to give you that’s important to me.”

“You don’t have to give me something in return.”

“I want to. It’s not as subtle as a pin, so you can’t wear it around or anything, but it’s the most important thing I have and I want you to keep it while you’re gone.”

Unzipping his backpack, Zayn opens it wide before setting it on the ground and pulling something out carefully. The ceramic is cool to the touch, small chips around the rim. He runs his thumb over each familiar imperfection before looking into Liam’s eyes again. He sees confusion and he grins.

“This was my Grandpa Walter’s shaving mug.”

Liam’s eyes flicker to Zayn’s shoulder, where his grandpa’s name is inked under his t-shirt.

“I used to stay over his house a lot with my sister, and my favorite thing to do was watch him shave every morning. If he ever skipped a day, my grandma would scold him and say he looked like a mad man. He told me once that he hated shaving more than anything, but he missed my grandma’s kisses too much to go without them.” He pauses to laugh, remembering how she’d laugh if his grandpa pulled her in for a kiss, making sure to rub his scruffy cheek against hers. “I miss him all the time,” he confesses, looking back into Liam’s eyes. “I use this every time I shave, though. I take my time and I do it right, like he showed me. It’s the most important thing I own. I want you to take it with you when you go to grad school. Even if you don’t ever use it; I just want you to have it.”

“I’ve never used one before,” Liam admits. “You could teach me, though?”

Zayn nods, swallowing thickly and running his hands along the familiar chips once again though his gaze never leaves Liam’s face. He watches as Liam’s hand comes up, scratching his nails through his thick scruff.

“I could use a shave now, if I’m honest. Do you want to show me?”

“I didn’t bring my straight razor. I didn’t think about that.”

“Okay,” Liam says gamely. Zayn pushes the mug into Liam’s empty hands, watching as his fingers curl around it carefully. “I know how much your grandfather meant to you, Zayn. I don’t take this lightly.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, again.”

“Shh,” Liam calms him. “I didn’t prepare you for it like I should have. There’s usually even another ceremony that comes first, a lavaliering. That’s usually the first taste of it, so by the time pinning comes around- if it does- it’s better understood.”

“What’s that one?” Zayn asks. “Lava-laying?”

“Lavaliering,” Liam repeats. “It’s when you’re first getting serious with someone. You give them a necklace with your house letters on it.”

“Not as significant as giving away your actual pin,” Zayn infers.

“Yeah. We moved a bit faster than that, though. And I didn’t realize until Louis started talking about proposing that I wanted to pin you. I knew we would most likely be apart next year and I wanted you to have something that tied you to this place still.”

Zayn fingers the pin stuck on his t-shirt, looking down at it. “I never thought I’d been an honorary frat dude.”

“Excuse me,” Liam says with a grin, clearly affecting an air of offense. “We are not frat _dudes_. We are frat _brothers_.”

“Oh, of course, sorry.” Zayn’s still smiling, moving his hand from the cool metal of Liam’s pin to the soft bristles of his scruff. He scratches his nails through it, eyes glued to Liam’s mouth.

As he watches, Liam’s lips part around an exhale. He can feel Liam’s hand reach up to palm the back of his neck, encouraging him to lean in with a gentle nudge. Zayn goes, of course he does, and this time he doesn’t pull back.

They kiss for long minutes, soft pecks in between rough presses. Zayn bites at Liam’s bottom lip, earning a groan and feeling Liam’s hold on him tighten as he climbs awkwardly onto the bed, straddling Liam’s spread thighs. It’s been ages since they’ve been this close, since before the fallout from the pinning, and Zayn’s soon hard in his jeans as he rocks down in Liam’s lap.

“Baby,” Liam breathes, pulling away to look up at him. His light brown lashes catch the late afternoon sun streaming in from the open window. His eyes shine. The red in his irises is prominent in the light, his pupils small despite the clear arousal Zayn can feel against his thigh.

“I love you, Li. I’m sorry,” Zayn says, pushing back in for another kiss.

Liam lets him for a minute, but then he pushes Zayn back, his breaths coming fast. “Will you do something for me?”

The quick ‘anything’ he’s about to say dies on Zayn’s tongue when he sees Liam’s expression. Wanting to prove that he’s going to start taking things more seriously, especially things that are clearly important to Liam, Zayn nods and runs his fingers along Liam’s scruffy jaw. “Tell me what you want.”

“Will you fuck me tonight?”

Zayn’s not shocked by the request, though he is intrigued. They’ve had every kind of sex imaginable in the nine months they’ve been together, but Liam rarely asks for this. Zayn sucks his own bottom lip behind his teeth, nodding and scratching down against the grain of Liam’s bristles. “Of course I will, babe,” Zayn breathes, shifting his hands to run through Liam’s soft hair, nearly long enough to curl. “I’ll take care of you.”

Liam helps them shift further onto the bed, pausing only to set down the ceramic shaving mug carefully on the nightstand. Zayn watches him tug off his t-shirt and he follows suit, kicking off his jeans as well and climbing back over Liam’s form. They fall together naturally, Liam’s back arching to press their chests together as Zayn teases his fingers along the waistband of Liam’s pants.

“How do you want it?” Zayn asks, pressing kisses to Liam’s throat, focusing tiny nips against his Adam’s apply as his hand slips fully under. His fingers knead and squeeze at Liam’s bare skin and he moans when he realizes Liam’s naked under the thin fabric of his sweats. “D’ya want to ride me, fuck yourself down on my cock?”

“No, I, shit. I want to be on my belly.”

“Better get you undressed and flipped over, then,” Zayn says. He pushes himself up with his palms, kneeling and tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants to expose his cock, already hard and laying thick up towards his hip. A bead of precome slicks the tip, pearly in the low afternoon light. Zayn’s mouth waters but he knows he can’t act on it or else Liam won’t be able to hold off long enough to get properly fucked.

He helps Liam shift onto his belly, pushing one leg up until his knee is bent and spread to the side. He grabs their bottle of Wet from Liam’s nightstand, having to search for a condom before his fingers find the familiar foil package.

The sight of Liam rocking his hips into the mattress makes his mouth water when he looks up again. Zayn tosses the lube and rubber onto the sheets and gets his hands on Liam’s cheeks, spreading them and thumbing at his hole.  He watches the muscle twitch, the tight clench of it so tempting. He sucks his first two fingers into his mouth until they’re dripping. He teases them against Liam’s hole before slipping his pointer finger inside to the second knuckle.

Liam’s relaxed and he takes Zayn’s finger easily, barely shifting. He does groan, just a soft sound almost near a whimper, and Zayn resolves to get even more sounds from him. He teases his other wet finger around Liam’s rim, his spit drying too quickly for him to feel comfortable breaching Liam further. He grabs the Wet with his left hand, opening the cap and squeezing a fair amount directly on Liam’s skin, enjoying the way Liam reacts with another small sound and a jerk of his hips.

“Baby,” Liam says, voice already thick with need.

Zayn bites his lip at the pet name, using the lube to ease the way for his second finger. He adds a twist of his wrist the way he knows Liam likes, stretching him quickly before he loses Liam’s cooperation. His boyfriend’s never the most patient man, especially not when he’s expected to relax and take what he’s given, and they’ve deviated from the plan too many times for Zayn to mess around. Liam asked for something specific tonight and Zayn’s determined to give it to him.

Three fingers is tight but Liam’s relaxed and Zayn doesn’t waste any more time before he’s pulling his hand away, using his mouth to tear open the condom and fitting it to the head of his dick, rolling it down and spreading a layer of Wet. A hint of the rubber’s taste teases at his teeth where they’d bitten down, and he flicks his tongue against it until it’s gone as he uses one hand to guide his cock into Liam, the other gentle over Liam’s kidney.

“Perfect,” Liam sighs, shifting his leg higher. The angle changes slightly and Zayn’s suddenly able to bottom out smoothly. Liam grunts when Zayn stretches out over him, his hips flushed to Liam’s nonexistent ass as he gives a few shallow thrusts. “More, please.”

Eager to give Liam everything he can, Zayn braces his hands on the mattress and sets a fast pace, listening to Liam’s whimpers and moans as he fucks back onto Zayn’s cock and forward into the sheets. The muscles in Zayn’s arms are tight as he leans down, shifting his weight to his forearms. He’s close enough now to trail kisses along the back of Liam’s shoulders, biting into the muscle to make Liam squirm.

“I love when you ask for this,” Zayn says, lips brushing Liam’s skin with every word. “Love that I get to make you feel good.”

“Zayn, baby,” Liam whines, trying to shift to his knees but Zayn keeps his chest to Liam’s back in a gentle encouragement to stay down.

“I’ve got you, Li. I’m gonna make you come just like this, making a mess of your sheets.”

“I, fuck, not going to take long,” Liam says, brow furrowed and lips pursed in concentration.

Zayn knows Liam’s riding the edge, knows they’re both desperate for it after their time apart. He won’t last long enough to get Liam off before him, though, so he focuses on keeping his thrusts consistently deep as he shifts and forces all of his weight to his elbow. His free hand slides between the mattress and Liam’s belly, teasing at the head of Liam’s cock before getting a firm grip and tugging him off.

The sounds Liam’s making aren’t helping Zayn’s stamina, and he feels his release rush over him unexpectedly. He bites and sucks at Liam’s shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, knowing there’ll be a bruise there when he’s done. He pumps the condom full, continuing to thrust as evenly as he can as he pulls desperately at Liam’s cock.

“Come on, babe,” he coaxes. “Want you to come when ‘m still in ya. Wanna feel you get so fucking tight around me.”

The euphoric rush of his orgasm is still tingling at the base of his spine and the tips of his toes when he finally feels Liam’s hole fluttering around him. He feels Liam’s come warm in his palm as he coaxes him through every spasm, slipping from his hole when he grows too sensitive to stay inside any longer. He keeps his hand on Liam until his aftershocks fade, slipping to his side.

The arm that had been holding his weight is nearly asleep, fire shooting to his fingertips as he shakes it and returns Liam’s eager kiss. He wipes his messy hand off on the sheets, wrapping his clean arm around Liam’s neck and holding him close.

“The only bad part about being on my front is no kisses,” Liam says when he pulls back, a fucked-out grin on his bitten-red lips.

“Yeah, neither of us are that flexible,” Zayn agrees, his tongue flicking out to chase the taste of Liam’s mouth from his bottom lip. Liam’s eyes track the movement lazily before he’s leaning back in.

 

 

Zayn takes up residency in the frat house again for the last few weeks of the school year. The dorms are always too hot or too cold, and the communal bathroom is one that Zayn’s never grown accustomed to. He much prefers the frat, sleeping somewhere that looks and feels like an actual bedroom, albeit one inhabited by two terribly messy college students.

The days following their reunion are full of the most sex they’ve ever had in such a short period of time. Liam keeps marking Zayn’s skin the subtle places, under the dip of his collarbone or behind his ear. Niall makes a game of guessing where Zayn will next sport a bruise, but calls it quickly off when Louis and Liam collude to cheat.

“You guys never even properly fought or broke up or anything,” Harry complains one day when they come out after a particularly loud round, having legitimately thought the house was empty. Instead, they find Harry and two of his friends in the living room, the TV up loud on a random show.

“I’d apologize, but I don’t want to,” Zayn responds childishly, sticking his tongue out for added effect.

“I don’t want to see that, I can only imagine where it’s been.”

Liam flushes dark enough to give them away and Zayn laughs, dragging him through the room and into the kitchen. He pushes himself up onto the counter, heels banging the cupboards below. “If you make me pancakes, I’ll blow you later.”

Liam grins, letting his large hand rest heavily on Zayn’s knee as he reaches above Zayn’s shoulder for the frying pan. “You’d probably blow me later, regardless.”

“Not if I die of starvation first.”

Liam rolls his eyes.

Zayn watches as Liam flits around the kitchen, drumming his fingers on the counter ledge. “Hey, Li,” he calls out, voice soft. Liam stops what he’s doing and comes back to him, his expression one of concern.

“Y’okay?”

Nodding, Zayn hums and gets his hands on Liam’s bare shoulders. “I love you, yknow?”

“Of course I know that, baby.”

“No, like. I think I can love you forever.”

Liam’s answering smile is wide and bright. “I think I can love you forever, too.”

Zayn lets Liam lean in close, answering the press of Liam’s lips with pressure of his own. They kiss lazily for a long moment before Zayn pulls back. “I love pancakes very much, too. Just saying.”

Liam laughs and pinches at his thigh through the thin fabric of his boxers. “I should make you get your own pancakes.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Zayn says confidently, though he does hop down from the counter and make his way to the big mixing bowl of batter. Liam presses up behind him, hands slipping under the hem of Zayn’s t-shirt and sweeping along the bare skin just above the elastic band of his boxer shorts.

“I want blueberries,” Liam says.

Zayn pulls a face but nods in agreement anyway, missing the heat of Liam’s chest when he moves away to the fridge to grab the fruit. He stirs them in carefully while Liam gets the pan warm, humming a string of a song he’s heard recently on the radio.

Liam picks up the lyrics a moment later, which is the exact moment Louis walks in. He stops in the doorframe, blue eyes bright and lips pulled in a smirk.

“This is disgustingly domestic.”

“Shut up or you don’t get any,” Zayn warns. Louis mimes zipping his lips and he grabs four plates and sets of silverware, setting them around the dining room table as Liam flips the first batch of pancakes over.

Niall wanders in as Liam’s pouring more batter into the pan, four warm and fluffy pancakes sitting on a serving plate next to the stove. “Oh, hell yeah,” Niall laughs, palming his stomach.

Liam pouts. “I’m going to have to make more batter, I think.”

Zayn rolls his eyes at Niall’s grin, setting about getting everything in line to make more. Liam nudges him with his shoulder, getting Zayn’s attention.

“I think they’re kind of included in our forever, too,” he says, expression mildly worried.

Zayn smiles gently. “As if I didn’t already know that. They’re your brothers, right?”

Liam presses a kiss to his cheek with a small sigh of relief, as if he was ever truly worried. It’s sweet, Zayn thinks, how much Liam cares about the boys with him in his fraternity. Maybe he clings to them so tightly because they’re the only brothers he’s ever had, having grown up with two fiercely protective older sisters but not many boys his age that he socialized with on a regular basis. It made the frat seem more appealing to Liam, Zayn’s sure, that brotherhood and loyalty were at its foundation.

He glances at the table where Niall and Louis are curled together, leaning on each other as if they’re still half-asleep. He smiles when Louis looks over, knowing he owes a lot to the boy for helping him out before. Losing Liam like that would have been something that plagued Zayn for the rest of his life, but Louis and his phone call home had helped him shift his perspective.

He thumbs at the gold pin hooked in the hem of his shirt, always on some piece of his clothing in some subtle way, even though Liam constantly tells him it’s really only meant to be worn in more formal occasions. Zayn isn’t over the thrill he gets from it, now that he understands the meaning and tradition behind it. He promises Liam he’ll put it away once the initial rush is passed, though he doesn’t know when that could possibly be. Not anytime soon.

“I can see why you like it here so much,” he tells Liam after a second’s pause. “This place kind of grows on you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say [hi!](http://sa-voix.tumblr.com/)


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